Strange Angel
by Closely
Summary: Kaoru is a performer, an average girl who forgets her lines due to nervousness - but can most performers say that if they forget their lines they're as good as dead? No, didn't think so. Slight parody of "The Phantom of the Opera 2004 Edition". Review!


**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters of Rurouni Kenshin, song lyrics (courtesy of The Phantom of the Opera), or at times, even the plot (you'll see what I mean).

**A/n:** Okay, right now, I'm completely and utterly fascinated with The Phantom of the Opera 2004 Edition so, as I said in the disclaimer, this is a somewhat parody to this opera—err, musical—eh, to this darn thingy. So, um, yeah... If you notice similarities (that is, if you've seen the masterpiece), don't sue, enjoy:)

--Brenko

**Strange Angel**

Her hands shook. This... He'd told her every night for weeks in her dreams, but this... She'd never possessed something so concrete before. Every night, day after day, she begged that she would survive throughout the night, that he wouldn't finally lash out on her, and that she could keep her sanity just _one_ more day... It was all she asked for anymore.

Now, her handstrembled so violently that she couldn't even make out the stylish penmanship stretched out across the parchment. Elegant and graceful, as smooth as his voice, the voice she suffered every waking moment that his words echo in my mind, and most especially every millisecond of the night. The paper threatened to rip in half. She dropped the once-neat-now-crumbled parchment to her vanity top, her hands crawling up her neck to cradle her face, her blue eyes, with apprehension, screwing up so hard it looked painful.

**Hello again, Dearest Kaoru,  
****I'll be at your show, Angel.  
****I'm eager to see you perform  
****For me, so do your best.  
****I'm expecting magnificence,  
****My dear.  
****--Strange Angel--**

She feared the greeting, the same pleasantry she heard every night in her dreams when he made a presence; she feared the message, the same words he'd promisedher for so long; but most of all, she feared the signature, the signature of the man who was slowly driving her insane. The man that knew her every thought, every wish, every dream, her every way of life... while she knew no more than his eyes. And his weapon.

The show was coming soon, quickly approaching, and she couldn't do anything to stop her quivering. She had never been so frightened when she first found the note left open on her nightstand. Never been so scared, she dreaded the show coming up tomorrow more than... more than death, which was likely to come to her if she screwed up.

His voice haunted her, but yet not one knew of this ailment. They didn't know that her sanity was flaking away from her piece by piece. He promised horrible things if any of this got out. After all, the Strange Angel, as she had come to know him, hears all, sees all, and expects the rest.

As the cast rehearsed later that day, she watched from the sidelines, expecting the absolute worst. What else could she do, but sit and wait for her doom? The rest of the afternoon passed in no more than a complete blur.

In her dreams, he was gorgeous, an extremely handsome man, and a gentlemen-like attitude to fit the part... with a dangerous weapon to go with it that she was all too familiar with. And her dreams always went the same, always ending in a meeting with that exquisite, yet alarming piece of steel. Piercing goldenrod, almost cat-like eyes bore into her night after night, the darkness absolutely nothing to him, while it was an extreme burden to her.

The taunting eyes that mocked her even without words. The unfeeling demeanor he carried about him. The dark clothes that wrapped around him in that classy manner of his. The long, red hair that whipped in the invisible breeze. It all enthralled her, left her in rapture.

As she lay in bed that night, she mulled over this. She wanted to call the show off; shehad beenon the verge of knocking on the manager's door so many times in the past time since she found the note lying in her dorm. During the nights he still visited her in her mind. His words replayed in her head forever more, simple yet dodgy and intimidating words. One phrase. Different variations. Same meaning. Same outcome.

"Dearest, sing. Sing,my Angel of Music."

She started in her sleep; his voice alarmed her even there.

"Sing, my angel!"

In her dream that night, there was darkness, complete blackness. She was there, of course she was, but she couldn't see her hand two inches in front of her nose. It was so dark.

"I am your Angel of Music,  
Come to me, Angel of Music!  
I am your Angel of Music,  
Come to me, Angel of Music!"

An eerie mantra sounded in her ears, a ghastly familiar voice resounding in the constrained,narrow corridor. It echoed around her, but from where she had no clue, no inkling without the speck of light she needed. So dark. So, so dark in this hall.

Until he came. His glowing yellow eyes lit her route, her way through the darkness, and guided her down the right path... until she came to a dead end. Where she immediately felt cold steel press against her jugular, the sharpened blade too dangerously placed for her own comfort. The glowing orbs had left her sight completely, she noticed inwardly, panicking on the outside.

"Sing for me, sing!" The disembodied voice from the mantra before sounded once again. She knew exactly who it was this time... it happened every time. And she could never make her voice work.

And moments later she would wake. She could never get any farther than that; she could never make her mouth work. When she didn't respond to his demand, he would simply kill her with a flick of the wrist. Easy as that sounded, it seemed like an eternity for her, every time. Even if it _was_ only a dream, she was always so scared.

After a few minutes passed with nothing from her, she waited for the blade to thrust into the Carotid artery of her throat, and then she would wake up peacefully, sweaty and out of breath but peacefully and still living. But... She realized in a moment's notice that she didn't die... _or_ wake, like she was supposed to!

She _always_ woke up, though!

The blade simply tightened to her throat; she could feel the pressure build against her neck. It felt real, taking her short of breath. Too real. Even in her panic, however, even at the risk of her life, she could scarcely emit an uttered note.

"Sing, my angel! Sing for me!" His voice demanded, smooth as silk.

"I..." It was the best shecould do with such pressure against my neck. Trying to pryher focus away from the bruising force againsther throat to form such words at the moment was next to impossible. It hurt to breathe.

"I'm... sorry, no."

Blackness, darkness... it all faded with a blink of the eye when she woke up, gasping for the precious air she had been denied in her dream, and found herself back in her room. Had she forgotten to breathe in reality? Rubbing her neck tenderly as she threw that thought aside and sat up, she noticed that she could _still_ feel the pressure that the sword had released on her neck. It had been so real, that dream. Unlike the others. And never, _never_ had it lasted so long before.

"Tomorrow, Kaoru," Wraithlike words echoed in the dead silence of her chambers. Her eyes were wide like never before and she was suddenly wide-awake; she glared around the room for the source of the voice.

Who was that? No one else had access to her now, as she was the only one with a key to her reside, she assured herself as her eyes flicked to the nightstand where she kept her keys to reassure her thoughts. Surely she had just dreamed it up, she convinced herself, just because she' still a little shaken and tired. That's right, of course. That's all. But... just in _case_...

"Who's there?" She called out despite better reasoning and safe judgment. The only response she received was the ghost of a chuckle emitting from somewhere unknown in the room where she sat. Or was that emitting from the slew of uncharted depths in her mind? Just like everything else she knew and heard was?

She laughed out loud at herself, "Kaoru, Kaoru, Kaoru, you're going to drive yourself insane." She didn't know if that was the truth, nor did she care anymore. Just... what was the cause of these illusions?

She fell back onto her futon, finally registering just how twisted up in her sheets she'd become. Sighing and throwing her arms over her face in exasperation, she stared up at the ceiling for answers. She knew she wouldn't get any more sleep tonight, for a fact.

The next morning,she finally crawled out of bed, dead tired and not looking forward to another long day with the Strange Angel. She was still hearing his voice, even now. She completed her morning routine, despite his taunting words, like usual. Until she went to the mirror to tame her bed hair before she got a shower in. When she lifted her blue eyes to the reflective glass, she started in horror. That was _not_ Kaoru staring back at her through the reflective glass like usual.

He was there, just as she had imagined him in her dreams. Beautiful, flowing red locks fell to his waist and a shadow was cast over his face, shining golden eyes shimmered through the darkness of his contours. And sitting atop his shoulder? The sharpest sword she had ever seen, the steel she had come in contact with more than her liking.

"Angel," She whispered under her breath, staring shamelessly. Her hand came up to massage her throat delicately, because if she concentrated hard enough she could still feel that same sword pressed hard against her jugular.

My eyes flickered to the wall behind her, her dark hair whipping behind her. If he were in the mirror, then he would be behind her, correct? ...No. No one was there. She looked back nearly immediately for an inkling of his location. When she did, her heart jumped in her throat.

His image was gone.

His featured haunted her throughout her entire day. In the mist the scalding hot water of her shower created around her, she swore she saw his familiar golden orbs shining through. She'd never finished her morning routine so quickly in her entire life after that scare.

It plagued her throughout the entire day. She always felt like she was being watched, no matter where she was. Anxiety shook her anywhere she went, and her eyes always glanced around for something out of the ordinary, whether by her will or not.

A mantra of lyrics played and replayed in her head all day, lyrics he had created and taught her. The Angel had planted them there, and for that, she found them both addicting and terrifying.

"Angel of music! Hide no longer!  
Come to me, Strange Angel..."

She hummed under her breath the all-too-familiar notes, clasping her hands behind her back nervously. He had talent – there was no denying that, whether it was inarts of musicor the arts of assassination. The Strange Angel she had come to hate was a genius. And she feared his mind while he relished in hers.

"Somehow I know he's with always with me  
He, the unseen genius!"

Her eyes had just fallen closed in something akin to serenity when she felt the breath of a smile on her neck. She started violently, her eyes flickering open automatically, darting every which way. Who had that been? She was sure her eyes were wider than comfortably possible, but she continued to peer around her. The corridor was completely empty. She didn't dwell on it, however, eager to leave, so she continued to the stage in a jog.

"He's with me, even now,  
All around me  
It frightens me."

She recited in song as she moved along, her pace swift. Her dark blue eyes were wary. She knew the presence floating around her all-too-well.

It was time. She would go on in a matter of minutes. She hummed over her lines under her breath, replaying all the pitches in her mind. She hated this part. She always psyched herself out moments before she got on stage... and then she always forgot her lines. Hence the woman off to her left prepared to whisper lines to her should she forget them.

She took an incredibly deep breath just before she was shoved lightly out of her anxious musing and led to the stage. As she stepped on stage, the light of the candles overhead that were set to illuminate the stage only served to blind and distract her from her purpose. When the orchestra began to play after she'd settled, she forgot what she was up there for.

Shaking herself, she stepped forward as they had rehearsed just as her part came, and opened her mouth to sing... but she forgot her lines.

Okay, okay. That's all right. She had another part she could come in on, a back up just in case this _did_ happen. She waited, and waited, desperately trying to tear her thoughts away from the distracting glow above her. She stood rigid on stage, her gaze flickering anywhere but the audience before her and the lights above her. The spectators stared, waiting for her performance to begin. This was taking ridiculously long.

Her gaze finally settled on the back wall, expecting no prying stares or sour looks. Only, her expectations were not met. Dangerous golden eyes stared back at her.

A flash of steel alerted her, a flicker of silver at his belt. His alarmingly red hair and piercing yellow of his eyes, she noticed almost absently, were the only color about him, as he was adorned in all black, concealed by a heavy, dark trench coat. He was standing in the back of the room, arms crossed as he leaned against the back corner of the room, which coincidentally revealed the steel at his waist. He looked menacing without even trying.

She felt her entire body go rigid and the bristle of gooseflesh irritated her skin,her hands shook from their clasped position where they were rested onher stomach. And seconds later, she felt a tremble shake her. No, she couldn't have that. If she got nervous all over again, she would miss her next opening.

In her daze, she finally registered the music, though her eyes could not move from the gold orbs in the back of the room. Many people had turned to look at what she was staring at, as she had already missed her second opening. She could do nothing but shudder in place. Her mouth was still hanging half-open in an effort and her diaphram constricted in order to sing the lyrics she had been doomed to forget.

She wanted to move, to turn away in humiliation, to run away from her shame, but the piercing eyes held her there, paralyzed her where she stood. Her limbs just would not respond. All she felt was the numb his glare brought to her. His eyes never moved from her form, even when several gasps and murmurs of surprise arose in the crowd when they caught sight of him and the sword at his belt. The orchestra had long since stopped playing. They were waiting for her to pick up her cue.

Though she was frozen like ice, she was able to offhandedly register that Angel's lips were moving, addressing and chiding her. His hand dived beneath his trench coat. For his sword, she knew. She was finally able to start in place, tearing away from his eyes. She took a few steps back, trying to keep her cool. A collective gasp of horror from the audience alarmed her.

"Sing!" His lips formed for her. He had been repeating it over and over again, his voice silent. A mantra, though silent, she didn't want to hear. Frightened when her eyes flickered away from the Strange Angel to the audience and back again to find him gone, instead starting down the many aisles to the stage, she looked to his right hand in trepidation. His sword.

She could imagine it... stained with _her_ blood. She could see the threat in his eyes, the bloodlust. If she didn't do what he asked, she would _really_ die. This wasn't just another one of her nightmares. She knew of his danger and she contemplated it as she watched his trace his left thumb over the sharp edge of his sword, eyes glinting with excitement. And how his threatening eyes bore into her delicate throat.

He stopped only to stare, to wait for her to do her deed.

She closed her mouth only long enough to wet her dry lips, hoping to eliminate her fears.

"I... I forgot!" She was barely able to breathe to the director when she was finally able to tear her gaze away from the Strange Angel's gaze. Her voice was no louder than a whisper. The director of the orchestra, who was miraculous enough to hear her, nodded with encouragement and her eyes automatically flicked to the aisle to her left, where she had been staring into the golden-yellow eyes of her plight for who knew how long. Was it the last five minutes? Or ten? She'd completely lost count.

But when her dark eyes met none staring back, she was worried. Beyond belief.

Horrified at the images of what terrors she could be put through that her eyes forced her to endure, she slammed her blue depths shut, clasping her hands tighter in front of her. She could almost hear his nearly silent, stealthy footsteps echo throughout the still, miraculously silent auditorium. She was a complete mess inside; how could they be so quiet? Didn't they see him?

She could hear the chink of the blade in the hilt of his sword with every footstep he took. He was approaching. She felt the vibrations of his soft footfalls upon the stage floor and she was terrified. She didn't want to imagine how many different ways he could kill her with one strike, something that had been on her mind for a long time, but her mind, of course, didn't obey; she didn't want to imagine how his lustful eyes yearned for her blood, or how they bore into her exposed neck.

She took an incredibly deep breath and let her mouth fall open again. She could do this. She had to. For the risk of life over death, she had to. There was no way around it.

Her eyes were still clamped shut; she didn't dare open them, whether to the sea of spectators or the sheen of steel. It just had to come naturally.

Vibrations hummed deep in her chest in a quick preparation. She ignored the orchestra as it started again, the director apparently deducting that she was going to begin. She felt, this time, as if she could really do it... correctly.

She exhaled, gathering her wits, and began, wishing for the best.

"I somehow know he's always with me  
He, the unseen genius,  
Angel of music! Guide and guardian!  
Grant to me your glory!

"Angel of music! Hide no longer!  
Secret and strange angel...

"He's with me, even now  
All around me  
It frightens me."

Acting her part, she walked across the stage, eyes half-lidded, hoping not to run into the Angel. Her hands moved to clasp over her chest as if in fear – which, honestly, she didn't need to fake. But that quickly changed with an immediate change of heart.

"Angel of music! Hide no longer!  
Come to me, strange angel!"

She paused. "Wait. No..."

Her voice reverberated and echoed into the silence of the entire theatre. The orchestra hadn't even remembered to keep up, mesmerized by the voice falling from this timid, shy, frightened little girl's lips.

When she paused in singing, she opened her eyes to dead silence. Regularly, she received _some_ kind of response, but there was none. And now she knew why as she took in her surroundings.

Only feet away from her, the redheaded angel stood, golden eyes blank and unfeeling as a cold-blooded murderer – which she wouldn't think of any less than the Strange Angel. He was twirling the dangerous weapon he wielded in his fingers. A sadistic smirk tugged at his lips.

She never had a chance to react before she found that he was inches behind her with both of her hands pinned behind her lower back. "Angel!" She hissed in a voice mixed with shock and pain when the sharp edge of his sword rested against her throat with force she wished she would never experience anywhere else but her dreams.

"Try again. The name's not Angel, Kaoru dear – Himura Kenshin. Battousai."

The sword tightened to her and she stiffened at his request.

"Himura – Battousai... Angel." She whispered, her eyes falling shut again. She couldn't bear to look at the audience with her last breath. Or her murderer.

"He's with me, even now  
All around me  
It frightens me!"

Her voice rang out into the silence again, and suddenly the pressure against her neck left her. She looked around frantically, breathing deeply. He was gone. Nowhere to be seen.

She sighed with relief, sinking toher knees. A few seconds of amazement passed before a round of applause thundered throughout the audience. She looked up to see every single spectator in the audience get to his or her feet. In the back of her mind, there was a ghost of a chuckle. A snicker that wasn't hers.

Kaoru grinned despite the disturbance, curtseying.

**A/n: **Tell me if you like it or not, please:)

-- Brenko


End file.
